---Ryouma's POV---
I ended up spending my birthday at the Nohara household, as both Obito and Rin had rejected my suggestion for a training camp.
"Happy birthday! Ryouma-chan~" Misaki's warm voice filled the room as she brought out another dish.
"Happy birthday, Ryouma!" Rin proudly pointed at the slightly lopsided cake on the dining table. "Look what I made. Mom helped, but I did most of it myself."
She probably spent all afternoon on this, I thought, noting the flour still dusting her cheek. The cake wasn't perfect—one side had risen higher than the other, and the frosting was a bit uneven—but somehow that made it better.
"She insisted on baking it herself," Misaki smiled, adjusting the candles. "Though I had to stop her from adding an extra cup of sugar."
"Mom! I told you not to mention that!" Rin's face flushed red as she tried to shush her mother.
The dining table was set with more care than usual. Besides the cake, there were all my favorites—grilled mackerel, miso soup with extra tofu, and even tempura.
"Thank you for having me over, Misaki-san," I said, maintaining my usual politeness.
"Always so formal!" Misaki laughed, ruffling my hair. Her hand lingered for a moment, gentle and warm. "You're practically family now." She didn't mention Father, didn't offer empty condolences. Instead, she simply added another bowl of rice to my plate. "Eat up—you're still growing."
After enjoying a hearty dinner with the Nohara family, I made my way to my house with two gifts in hand. Rin had followed me.
"I picked the tool pouch myself!" she explained proudly. "The reinforced stitching should last longer, and I made sure the compartments would fit field supplies properly."
"Thank you, RIn."
"Just... make sure you use it properly, okay? Mom says proper organization can save lives in the field."
"I will," I promised, then turned to Misaki who was watching us from the doorway. "Thank you for the wonderful birthday party, Misaki-san."
"Anytime, Ryouma-chan! You're always welcome."
---
Ever since that incident with Homura, I felt as if life in Konoha had become too comfortable.
I had forgotten the dangers of the shinobi world.
Since my reincarnation, I hadn't left Konoha. I had no idea what life was like in other nations or other ninja villages.
However, based on my memories and context of the original storyline, I could deduce that the citizens in most of the nations lived lives filled with insecurity and hardship.
Even if it was just to maintain my current peaceful life, I realized I had no choice but to grow stronger.
Sitting on the sofa in my living room, I opened the gifts from Misaki and Rin. Misaki's gift was a ninja vest, while Rin's was that carefully chosen ninja tool pouch—both were highly practical and reflected the current trend for gifts in the ninja world.
Thinking of this, I went to Father's room and took out the birthday gift box I had found earlier while organizing his belongings.
"Thank you for the gift—I've received it," I murmured softly. I untied the ribbon, opened the box, and took out the short blade prepared by Homura and Father together.
I decided to name the short blade Lostvayne. One day, I would personally use this blade to sever the backbone of Kiri and the Seven Ninja Swordsmen.
---
As another year in Konoha passed, I turned six years old. While the beginning of the school year at the Ninja Academy approached, I hadn't recklessly pushed my body to extreme limits in training over the past year, despite my father's death.
As a reincarnator with memories of a previous life, and especially one who had lived in the information-rich 21st century, I knew how to train myself step by step.
At the very least, dragging my five-year-old body to run laps around Konoha every day wasn't an option.
Even if I could handle it, Rin wouldn't be able to.
That's right—after learning that I could mold chakra, she seemed to realize she had been slacking off for too long. She begged me to let her join my training regimen.
Because of this, and to prevent the her from turning into a muscular woman like Bisky, I couldn't set the intensity of our training too high.
"Ryouma! Ryouma! This is great—we're in the same class!" Rin exclaimed with a radiant smile, clasping her hands in front of her chest as we entered the Academy classroom.
"Yeah, it's Class 1," I replied casually, while my gaze swept across the classroom.
I saw several familiar faces. Kakashi and Sakumo were there. The curly-haired girl must be Kurenai, and the boy beside her... was that Asuma?
So different from their future selves, I mused, watching them.
Kurenai hadn't yet developed her infamous genjutsu skills, and Asuma still carried the weight of being the Hokage's son in his posture.
Seriously? Kurenai was so young, and Asuma's already got ulterior motives? Ah, they were both the same age, so it was fine... unless he was some kind of reincarnator.
"Ryouma, what are you looking at?" Rin noticed that I had stopped observing our surroundings and was staring straight ahead. She followed my gaze, her smile freezing slightly.
"Ah, sorry, I was just lost in thought," I quickly clasped my hands together in apology, trying to reassure her.
"But speaking of which, there are so many of us here. I thought the war would make many villagers reluctant to send their children to become ninjas."
Hm... wait. I had made a mistake in basic reasoning. In the shinobi world, ninjas had replaced samurai as a proper profession.
Although the risks were high, the rewards for missions shouldn't be low either. Even a genin might be able to support an ordinary family with the mission payouts.
Moreover, living in a war-torn world, who wouldn't want to gain strength? Added to that, the Third Hokage's constant promotion of heroic ninja deeds had made the residents of Konoha more willing to send their children to the Academy.
I was till too inexperienced
Hearing my doubts, Rin responded, "Huh? Is that so? But when I told my mom I wanted to attend the Ninja Academy, she agreed right away."
"I was too hasty with my assumptions. Anyway, let's find our seats in the classroom first."
"Okay! But don't worry about it too much, Ryouma. After all, it's hard to predict what other people are thinking," Rin said kindly, as always.
We quickly found our seats. And since we had registered together during enrollment, our seats were naturally next to each other.
"Didn't expect to be in the same class, huh? Ryouma, Rin—by the way, have you seen that idiot, Obito?" Kakashi greeted us and asked casually, though his eyes showed a hint of concern.
Before joining the Ninja Academy, the four of us had already become friends due to some earlier incidents.
"Obito hasn't shown up yet? Class is about to start. He's going to be late, if he doesn't come soon... And that'll leave a bad impression on the teacher on the very first day," Rin said worriedly, fidgeting with her pencil.
I pretended to look around, but actually used my perception to scan the entire Konoha. I really found him.
---
On the other side of the Academy, a boy wearing goggles was helping an elderly woman with a large backpack, who was struggling to walk.
He adjusted the heavy bag on his shoulder, flashing his signature grin.
The kind-hearted boy was none other than Uchiha Obito.
Today was supposed to be his first day at the Ninja Academy, but whether he forgot or decided that helping the old lady was more important, I didn't know.
But in any case, I knew he was going to be late.
---
"Oh, I see now."
"Kakashi, don't worry. His probably off helping an old lady ask for directions or catching cats and dogs again. Just be ready for the possibility that he might be late all day," I said after retracting my perception range.
"That's the worst-case scenario, Ryouma," Rin retorted, but her lips twitched with a suppressed smile.
"Forget it. I'll just talk to the teacher later and pick up Obito's enrollment paperwork for him," Kakashi sighed, already resigned to covering for their tardy friend.
Even now, they're falling into their roles, I observed. Kakashi the responsible one, Rin the worrier, and Obito... well, being Obito.
Ding~
The bell rang.
We returned to our seats as a middle-aged ninja wearing a flak jacket walked in through the classroom door.
"Good morning. My name is Sarutobi Kosuke, and I'll be your homeroom teacher from now on. I'm very strict when it comes to teaching, so prepare yourselves," the man said with a stern face.
"Ryouma, Kosuke-sensei seems like the really strict type. Looks like Obito is in trouble," Rin whispered to me.
"It's fine. Kakashi will explain things for him. No matter how strict the teacher is, they'd go easy on someone if Kakashi is the one speaking up for them," I said nonchalantly.
After all, Kakashi's reputation as a prodigy had already spread even before he joined the academy. Not to mention that his father was none other than Konoha's White Fang.
The saying "like father, like son" was just as popular in the ninja world.
"Alright, let's start with introductions. From the first person on the left, it's your turn. Introduce yourself," Kosuke pointed to a boy with pineapple-shaped hair sitting in the corner.
"This is such a bother. What should I even say, sensei?" the pineapple-haired boy asked, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of self-introductions.
"Just your name, what you like, what you dislike, and what your dream is. That's all," Kosuke responded as if he had been expecting this question, offering a simple and effective template.
"What a pain. My name is Nara Shikaku. I like lying around at home, dislike troublesome things, and my dream is to marry a wife who's not too pretty and not too plain, and just live out my life peacefully."
Already mastered the Nara attitude, huh? I thought, amused.
After his introduction, Shikaku sat down.
"Great! Very energetic. Next," Kosuke said, unfazed by Shikaku's half-hearted introduction. His goal was to ensure the students got a basic impression of one another.
"My name is Mitarashi Anko. I like sweet bean soup and dango. I dislike food without sugar. My dream is to become a kunoichi like Tsunade-sama."
"My name is Sarutobi Asuma..." the young boy began, standing straight with the unmistakable bearing of the Hokage's son.